Seagull: You were in a 40 foot hover, searching for a Soviet submarine, when the transmission froze up.

Me: Oh. Then what?

Seagull: Well, you crashed. The helicopter is about 7,000 feet below us, halfway down the slope of the mid-Atlantic ridge.

Me: Where’s my crew?

Seagull: You’re the only one I see.

Me: I think I remember. Wasn’t it at night?

Seagull: How would I know? I wasn’t there.

Me: Then how do you know about it?

Seagull: The flying fish told me.

Me: Again with the flying fish. Flying fish don’t fly at night.

Seagull: This one does. You were looking right at it. I have to tell you, that really upset it. It’s not respectful to stare.

Me: Right. A sensitive flying fish.

Seagull: It’s the way they are. By the way, thanks for the spot to rest.

Me: Thanks for the lunch.

Seagull: Lunch?

Me (grabbing the seagull by the feet): Lunch!

Seagull: What are you going to do with that knife?

Me: Get lunch ready.

Seagull: Don’t you know you’re not supposed to eat in a survival situation if you don’t have plenty of water?

Me(letting go of the seagull): I think I remember that from my survival training. I guess this is your lucky day.

Seagull: Actually, it’s your lucky day.

Me: I don’t see that. I’m in a raft, literally in the middle of an ocean, talking to a bird. My helicopter and my crew are at the bottom of the ocean, I have no water and I just realized I’m getting a pretty bad sunburn.

Seagull: I’d like to help but I doubt if I can.

Me: Thanks for the offer. I guess I am getting a little delirious.

Seagull: That’s not surprising. After two days without water I’d be surprised if you weren’t.

Me: Where did the flying fish go?

Seagull: It flew away.

Me: You know that flying fish don’t really fly, don’t you? They just sort of skip across the water for a ways.

Seagull: Well, since seagulls don’t talk, I think your point is moot.

Me: I think my point is that I’m losing my grip. I guess this is how I’m going to die. I always thought my last words would be “Oh, shit” after trying the last thing I could think of to keep an airplane from crashing.

Seagull: If it’s any consolation, the flying fish said those were your exact words right before your helicopter hit the water.

Me: Right. In the middle of a hurricane of spray and noise and splashing, he heard my last words.

Seagull: She, actually. She’s a lip reader.

Me: Well, thanks for the company. I guess you fly off and I die now.

Seagull: We could, but I think that would upset your friends.

Me: My friends are at the bottom of the sea.

Seagull: Not them. I was thinking of that helicopter up there looking for you.

Me: What helicopter?

Seagull: Look to the west.

Me (waving my hands): Hey! Hey! Over here.

Seagull: I don’t think they can hear you. Don’t you have a rescue flare?